Desire Lines

Is everything totally working out for you? Do you fist pump the sky like a one-gloved aerobics instructor in an 80s fitness video when you rise to greet the day each morning?

No? Oh.

Huh. Seems unusual. Unless… Maybe, instead of life being like the cheesy, slightly stressful smiley opening number of a musical, life is sometimes the lame moment-of-crisis solo that the most boring character has to do near a stairwell in Act Two while the sets are being rotated. Nobody likes that solo. Everybody wants the comic relief to come on and do a duet, right?

Not as into musicals or 80s music videos as I am? Fair enough.

Point is: things are probably going to be okay. Or mostly okay. Most of the time. Here is a list of things are mostly okay. This is a public service announcement.

Frost on the grass in the morning is pretty good. Somehow, it makes the grass look sharper.

Watching a kid unwrap a present is pretty hilair.

Talking to someone while you both unpack a dishwasher is one of those things that can happen between complete strangers or intimate partners and the shared industry of it feels, subliminally, so productive, so mutually generous, that sometimes you feel a bit sorry when you have to go back to talking without it.

Sometimes the little moments of seeing someone in another car and sharing a slight smile, or an eyeroll in sympathy on public transport, or even a knowing nod over a child’s head to its besieged parents is a significant enough glimpse into the possibility of human social cohesion that it lifts you for a moment and takes you outside of yourself.

Performing little acts of tiny kindness is a rewarding thing to do. Like being the person in the shop who says “I think this person was next” while gesturing at a customer so white hot with rage at having been overlooked as to be almost exploding. Tiny act. Really changed that person’s morning.

Dragon breath on a cold morning. One of nature’s best special effects.

The thing where you know someone well enough to be able to taste whatever they’re having in a restaurant? Should not be taken for granted.

Looking at something for the first time - maybe when you’re travelling, maybe on a bush walk, maybe approaching the crest of the dunes on the beach and taking in the sunset over the sea - and feeling compelled, even though you are alone, to say some version of “wow” under your breath - that’s a lovely, private, human instinct.

Sometimes, things have real names but you don’t know what the real names are because people came up with better ones. For instance, the proper name for a person who helps children cross the road at school is probably something like “traffic safety officer” but we all know they’re called “lollypop ladies” or “lollypop men” and we like them more, don’t we, because of their names? Also, those luminous cones they put on the ground to warn people about roadworks are called “safety cones” but they’re really witches’ hats. You know that. I know that. Everybody knows that. We named them after a fake thing from a fairytale because we are all twelve, deep down.

Sometimes you walk somewhere and there are paths - paved ones - but, despite that, people have decided there’s a quicker way and so there’s a narrow little footpath carving a wiggly shortcut across the grass from one spot to another. A lot of people had to decide to go the exact same way for that happen. Apparently they’re called desire lines. How lovely is that?

There’s something lovely about nostalgia. Looking at the last of the autumn leaves. Remembering how you felt when you were ten years younger. Hearing the jingle from an ad when you were a kid. That affectionate, gentle, almost-sadness about the things that made you who you are.

Ever seen a dog on the beach? Enthusiasm, unbridled.

For some reason, pictures of bicycles are comforting. Not actual bicycles, but look at signs with pictures of bicycles on them. They’re so inviting and lovely and wholesome and they make you think things are maybe not as bad as they seem. But maybe this last one is just me.

Whatever. All of these things are quite okay. A life with even just a few of these things in it contains some degree of excellence. Well done. This has been a public service announcement.

An edited version of this column appeared in The Big Issue. Please support The Big Issue and their vendors. They're an excellent collection of humans.